Sylar on What Not to Wear
by chocolatemoose713
Summary: Sylar's friends are not pleased with his fashion sense, so they nominate him for What Not to Wear.
1. Chapter 1

If you haven't seen the show, Stacy and Clinton, self-proclaimed fashion experts ambush someone they consider to be badly dressed and give them a makeover. Sylar doesn't actually need a makeover, but this was fun to write anyway.

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Chapter 1:

Sylar glances over his shoulder. The chubby man who he plans to be his next victim is still seated at his table, enjoying a piece of pie. Sylar chuckles darkly to himself as he thinks about this man, who is unknowingly consuming his last meal. He's not sure what this man's power is, but according to Doctor Mohinder Suresh, it is a good one. Sylar can't wait to test it out. He looks over again. The man is wiping off his face with his napkin and standing up. As he starts to leave, Sylar stands up as well. He knows that now it the time to strike.

But as he moves towards the door, he suddenly feels hands on his shoulders. He looks to his left and to his right. Two people have grabbed his arms. At first he thinks he is being abducted by The Company again, but then he realizes that these people do not resemble company agents. There is a woman and man, standing on either side of him, clutching his arms.

"Hi Sylar," says the woman. He doesn't know what is going on.

"Who are you?" Sylar asks. Fortunately, the two people help him out with that. "I'm Stacy," the woman says, putting an arm around his shoulder. Sylar raised one eyebrow at her.

"And I'm Clinton," says the man. The names do not ring a bell. Sylar tries to get away, but Clinton holds on tightly to his arm.

"And we're from TLC's What Not to Wear!" Clinton and Stacy both say this at the same time with much excitement. Sylar looks from one smiling face to the other and does not say anything. Clinton and Stacy laugh. Suddenly a few familiar faces walk through the door of the diner.

"Your friend Mohinder called us," Stacy informs him. Peter, Claire, Matt, and a few other people cheer and clap while Mohinder looks both smug and terrified at the same time. Finally almost understanding what is happening, Sylar glowers at him.

"Yeah that's right," Clinton says, and Stacy nods. He looks out the window and sees the man who he had planned to take the power of had already gotten into his car and has driven away.

"You see, you're friends are a little bit concerned about your fashion sense," Stacy says. Sylar doesn't know if anyone in that group would qualify as his friend. He is pretty sure that are just there to laugh at him. And there _is_ a lot of laughing going on.

"And we're a little...concerned too," says Clinton. "And we've seen your wardrobe, because we've been secretly filming you for the past two weeks." Sylar thinks back to the past two weeks of his life. Not only does he think back to the things he has worn, but also to the things he has done. Maybe the things he has done are bad, but he doesn't think what he wears is too terrible.

"Yeah, so we have this Bank of America card, with your name on it," Stacy says, holding up a small piece of plastic. "And $5,000 to buy yourself a whole new wardrobe." His"friends," plus a small crowd of people from the diner that had gathered cheer.

"So what do you say," asks Clinton. Sylar tries to send Clinton and Stacy flying across the diner with his telekinesis as a response, but his powers are not working. Then he notices the Haitian standing by Noah Bennet.

"I suppose I don't have a choice," Sylar says angrily. They hand him the credit card. The crowd continues to cheer.

"There is one small catch," Stacy says. Sylar sends her one of his most evil stares.

"Yeah, you have to give yourself over to us, mind, body, and wardrobe. And you have to shop by our rules," Clinton explains. Sylar doesn't know exactly what that entails, but it doesn't sound pleasant.

"And since we have all of this great secret footage," Stacy says, "We thought that we could all watch it together right now!" The crowd laughs and cheers. Sylar doesn't know if that is such a good idea, but he knows that no one will let him get out of it.

"Well, this should be interesting," he says.

* * *

Everyone is gathered around a T.V. in the back of the diner. Sylar is sitting up front, in between Stacy and Clinton. He was already threatened by Matt Parkman to be handcuffed to his chair, but Sylar had told him that he would behave. Clinton presses play and Sylar is watching a video of himself walking down the street."

"So this was a couple weeks ago, right?" Clinton says.

"That is correct." Sylar says.

"What's up with that black trench-coat?" Stacy laughs. Everyone chuckles. "Is that the same one you have on now?"

"That's a different one," Sylar says quietly.

"Oh ok," says Stacy, "How many do you have?"

"A lot," Mohinder answers for him. Everyone laughs again. Sylar shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"What're you eating in that clip?" Stacy asks.

"Ice cream," Sylar replies.

"Serial killers eat ice cream?" Stacy says skeptically.

"Yes, we do," Sylar says. The clip changes and now it is Sylar entering a woman's house.

"Nice shoes," Stacy smirks.

"Is all you two going to do is insult me?" Sylar asks.

"Shut up," Stacy says, "We are punishing you for your crimes. Your crimes against fashion."

"That's right," says Clinton and they both laugh annoyingly.

"I can think of a lot worse crimes I have committed," Sylar says under his breath.

"What was that?" Stacy asks.

"Um, nothing," Sylar says.

"Is there a reason you dress all in black?" asks Clinton, watching the video.

"Well, you'll find out," Sylar mumbles, watching himself blast the down the door. Stacy and Clinton gasp as he lifts the woman off the ground with his telekinesis and pins her against a wall. As the Sylar on the screen moves his finger along her forehead and cuts off the top of her head, everyone except for Sylar screams and closes their eyes. Sylar smiles. He was wrong. Watching this footage _was_ fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

After Stacy stops crying and everyone calms down, Sylar is quite sure that they will not want to continue with the show. In fact, he is surprised they even made it this far, but no, Sylar is instructed to meet them at the What Not to Wear studio tomorrow morning, with all the clothes that he owns.

Sylar doesn't really know why he is agreeing to this. Although it's true that he doesn't really have a choice. He has already lost his next victim and so he doesn't really have anything better to do.

So the next day Sylar finds himself standing inside a small room full of mirrors and very bright lights. It vaguely reminds him of being inside a cell the Company had put him in. They called it the 360 degree mirror and Sylar was supposed to say something about the outfit he is wearing, but he doesn't really know what to say about it, so he just stands there and glares at the camera until Stacy and Clinton squeeze themselves into the small room with him.

"So, Sylar," says Stacy, "This is an...interesting outfit."

"This jacket is terrible," says Clinton, "If you're on the tall side, you should wear jackets that hit your waste, not ones that go below your knees."

"And Sylar, there's no reason to wear all black," says Clinton, "You've got this big black jacket, and we can't see you."

"In fact," says Stacy, "We can't see you at all because you have your hat, also black, pulled down over you face." Stacy removes his hat and puts it on her own head. "How do I look?" she asks, striking a pose.

"You look gangsta," replies Clinton. Stacy laughs even though that wasn't very funny. Sylar stares at them angrily.

"No you don't," he says. "Can I have my hat back?"

Stacy gives Sylar back his hat and they take him over to a mannequin.

"So, _this,"_ Stacy says, gesturing to the clothes on the mannequin, "Is how we want you to dress." Sylar looks the mannequin up and down. It is dressed in a pink button down shirt with a blue tie and some jeans. Sylar laughs.

"I don't think so," he says. Stacy and Clinton look a little bit offended but Sylar doesn't care.

"Okay, well let's talk about this outfit for a moment," says Clinton.

"Yeah," says Stacy, "Because I think this outfit is way better than the one you have on. You're outfit...scares me a little bit. But this outfit is friendly and colorful and says, I am a nice person you might like to talk to."

"Why would I want to give off that sort of message?" Sylar asks. Stacy does not respond but instead holds up one of the leather shoes.

"Look at this great shoe," she says. She looks down at his feet. "And let's compare it to your ugly black boots." Stacy chuckles as if she has just heard a good joke.

"Even if you don't really like this outfit, how about the idea of wearing some color?" Clinton asks. He strokes the pink shirt.

"Yeah," says Stacy, "You never wear any color."

"That's not true," Sylar says.

"Oh so you would wear some color?" asks Stacy.

"Well, it's not really-"

"Just give it a try," says Clinton.

"Fine."

"Pink?"

"Not gonna happen."

* * *

All of Sylar's clothes have been hung up on a clothing rack in the What Not to Wear studio. Sylar stands in front of this rack now, almost defensively, as Stacy and Clinton prepare to attack it.

"You _do_ have a lot of black trench coats," Stacy says sliding their hangers over one by one, to look at them. She picks them all up. "Not anymore," she says, and heaves them all into the metal can. Sylar thinks about how long it took him to find all of those. It wasn't easy to find such ominous looking clothing. He hates Stacy for throwing them all away.

"Do you listen to the Ramones?" Clinton asks tearing Sylar away from planning Stacy's death, and holds up Sylar's Ramones t-shirt.

"No, I stole that shirt from Zane Taylor" Sylar says, remembering those happy times.

"Who's Zane Taylor?" asks Stacy.

"A man I killed."

"Right," Clinton and Stacy say at the same time, throwing the shirt into the trash can.

"What are these?" Stacy asks, holding up some white pants and a white shirt. Sylar laughs a little bit.

"Those were issued to me by the Company," he explains.

"What?" says Clinton.

"A Company abducted me for about two weeks," Sylar says, "And this is what I was wearing when I woke up in a cage," he gestures to the white clothing.

"That is a crime against fashion," Stacy says, dropping the clothes into the trash can as well.

Stacy and Clinton continue to insult Sylar's wardrobe. Then, against his will, Sylar goes back in the 360 degree mirror. This time he had decided to wear something different from what he usually wore because Stacy and Clinton did not seem to like his first outfit. Again Sylar can't really seem to think of anything to say, so Stacy and Clinton come into the tiny room.

"This is a different look," Clinton says.

"What does that mean?" Sylar says irritably.

"Well," says Stacy, "What's up with the sweater vest?" she asks. Sylar shrugs.

"My mother liked them."

"Yeah well, sorry Sylar's mommy, if you're watching this. Sweaters vests are for nerds."

"My mother is dead," Sylar says, "and you really shouldn't have said that." He begins to lift his finger up, but before he can make a move, Clinton interrupts.

"Hey! I wear sweater vests!"

"Yeah, but they look fashionable on you. On Sylar, he looks like The World's Biggest Nerd."

"Maybe it's the glasses," Clinton comments.

"Why the hell are you wearing glasses anyway?" asks Stacy.

"Sylar, do you need glasses?" Clinton asks him.

"No," Sylar says, turning his head to glare at Clinton.

"Then," Clinton grabs Sylar's glasses, "Why are you wearing them?" Sylar snatches his glasses back and shoves them in his pocket.

"Sylar, I'm not gonna lie," Stacy says, "You scare the crap out of me, but in this outfit all I can do is laugh at you."

Sylar gives Stacy his, "if you do not stop talking, I am going to kill you, I mean it," look and that shuts her up right away.

"Let's go look at the next rule," Clinton says after a moment of silence.

"So, Sylar," Stacy says, as they walk over to another mannequin, "What do you think of this look?" Sylar raises one eyebrow at it. He isn't sure quite what to make of it.

"This is your casual look," Stacy says.

"You could get a different color hoodie, of course," says Clinton.

"Could I get black?"

"No," Stacy and Clinton say in unison.

"Oh," Sylar says, looking down at the floor. "White shoes?" he asks skeptically.

"Why?" Clinton quips, "Afraid of getting blood on them?"

Sylar replies "no," even though that is the real reason.

"What do you think of denim, Sylar?" Stacy asks, patting the dark jeans.

"I don't really wear jeans," Sylar replies. Stacy's mouth opens in shock. "Most people love jeans." she says.

"I'm not most people," Sylar says. Clinton groans and they move on to the next outfit.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," Clinton says, as they walk up to the mannequin. Sylar only stares at it.

"It's black!" Stacy exclaims. Sylar laughs humorlessly.

"When would I ever wear this?" he asks.

"What are you talking about?" says Clinton, "You can wear a suit anytime. It's so versatile." Sylar eyes the crisp black fabric with distaste.

"Aren't they usually worn at parties for people with friends?" Sylar says. Stacy and Clinton nod and Sylar raises his eyebrows at them.

"Well maybe the reason you don't have friends is because no one likes the way you dress," Stacy says. Sylar doubts that, but he doesn't say anything more on the touchy subject.

They go back over to Sylar's rack of clothes which is about half empty now, but Stacy and Clinton are not through with it.

"Nobody needs boots like these," Stacy says, tossing Sylar's heavy black boots into the now almost full metal garbage can.

"Those are really practical," Sylar says. Stacy rolls her eyes.

"This jacket is really ugly," she says, holding up the beige colored jacket that Sylar had once dug out of someone's trash. Clinton grabs the rest of Sylar's sweater vests and throws them into the trash can too. It's not that big of a deal though, Sylar never really wears them too often anymore.

Sylar watches as Stacy and Clinton attack the rest of his wardrobe until there is nothing left but a few spare hangers left on the rack. It's sort of sad. And kind of insulting. Sylar has half a mind to go radioactive on them, but he can't because 1. He sees that The Haitian has tagged along and is reading a magazine in the back, 2. New York City has a lot of innocent people living in it, and Sylar doesn't _want_ to be a monster, and 3. It would destroy his clothes, then he wouldn't have any clothes to wear and no clothes to put on and that could be bad.

"Okay," Stacy says, clearly a tad out of breath, "Now, go shopping," she says, giving him a playful little push to which Sylar responds with a look of pure hatred. She backs away a little bit. But Sylar is in no mood for Stacy's foolish behavior. He snatches up the clothes that Stacy and Clinton have allowed him to keep so he would have something to wear while he "shopped" and started walking out the door.

"Don't forget the rules!" Stacy calls after him.

"Yeah," chimes in Clinton, "No black trench coats!"

"And no sweater vests either!" adds Stacy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day, Sylar walks through the door of a clothing store. He had spent the entire night deciding whether or not he should find a way out of this, because yes, he had already given up his whole wardrobe, but easy come, easy go, he could find new clothes. Then he decided that he might as well just continue with this, see how it plays out. He was just a little too curious.

And he knew that he didn't have any fashion sense whatsoever. He had spent most of his life wearing what his mother wanted him to wear, and the past several months wearing, well, the exact opposite. But he had thought that his dark looking jackets and baseball caps were cool looking. Clearly, he had been wrong, something Sylar didn't like to admit.

Sylar's first glances at the first store are not very promising. So far he doesn't see anything that he would even like to wear. However, he does need some clothes now so he decided to just look around and see if he can find anything. He spots some shirts that kind of look like the one that was on the mannequin Stacy and Clinton had shown him, so he heads over there.

The shirt comes in all different colors. But no black. And no gray either. Or brown. And not even dark blue. That is not too appealing, but he picks up a light blue one because he sure as hell isn't going to wear the pink one. The color is not something Sylar would ever consider wearing but it couldn't hurt to try it on he supposes.

Looking around the store and not finding anything else, except for a jacket that looked so much like Peter Petrelli's that Sylar started laughing just a bit, he decides just to head to the dressing room to try the shirt on and then get out of there.

Sylar takes two steps out of the dressing room, takes a look at himself in the mirror and then turns around and heads back into the dressing room to take it off. No, he doesn't think that he will be getting this. He never should have even tried it on. He is already getting a bit frustrated.

So Sylar enters the next store, hoping that this one will bring better luck. It looks a little bit more promising. There is a larger selection of clothing that look like things he might actually consider wearing. He browses around for a bit when a black jacket catches his eye. He wanders over to it very nonchalantly and looks at it for a moment. He is pretty sure that Stacy and Clinton would not like it, but he doesn't really care because he's diffidently not afraid of them and of what Sylar had seen of them yesterday, they might even benefit from someone disobeying them for once. He picks up the jacket and nods his head in the direction of the cameras and smirks. He hopes Stacy and Clinton saw that.

Sylar looks around the store a little bit more but he is getting frustrated again and he just wants to try on the jacket that he picked up. He goes over to the dressing room and puts it on over the black t-shirt that he is already wearing. He comes out of the dressing room and looks in the mirror. It's a lot like his old one but a little bit shorter. He doesn't even need to wonder whether or not this would be acceptable. He knows that Stacy and Clinton would not approve but he doesn't care. It's black, it's long, and it's exactly the opposite of everything Stacy and Clinton showed him, so he's going to get it. He takes it off and ignores the chuckles from the camera men- obviously this makes for good television, and he struts over the counter to pay for his find with Stacy and Clinton's money.

* * *

Sylar goes into a larger store next. There are a lot of clothes that look like clothes that Stacy and Clinton might approve of. He heads over to a rack of shirts that come in a lot of colors. This one comes in black. But that is not going to fly with Stacy and Clinton. He thinks the red one looks cool but doesn't see him himself wearing that and it doesn't resemble anything Stacy and Clinton showed him. And he's not about to try on another blue one. And the green one reminds him of something Mohinder would wear, so he decides to go with the white one.

He looks around the store he but can't find the dressing rooms and it is making him very angry. Finally he gives up. He stops in the middle of the store and throws the shirt over the side of a rack of clothes.

Then he takes off his shirt.

The camera men look to each other nervously as Sylar pulls his arms through the sleeves of the white shirt and fumbles with the buttons.

When he gets it on, he looks over and sees a mirror and starts to head over there when something else catches his eyes.

Over by the sweaters, Sylar sees the man from the diner. The man who Mohinder had given him the name of. The man with a power.

Sylar smiles.

His course immediately changes for that man. As the man holds up a gray sweater to look at it, Sylar creeps up behind him.

"Funny seeing you here," Sylar says, standing behind the man, towering over him as he is almost a foot taller. Then man drops the sweater and turns around to see Sylar smiling at him.

"Who are you?" the man asks. Sylar chuckles, and with the flick of his fingers, the man flies across the room and gets pinned up against a wall. Sylar holds up his hand at arms length, keeping him there and slowly walks over to him. He wonders why the camera men are not trying to stop him but he realizes that they must be too afraid.

"Oh you don't know me, Stewart," he says, "But I know you and I know that you have something that I want."

"If its money you want-"

"Sorry, _Stew_. It's not money. If fact," he pauses thoughtfully, looking at the ground for a moment. "Money is the _last_ thing I need right now."

Stewart's confusion can be seen through his fear.

"Well, he says," looking back up at Stewart and smiling, thinking about how afraid this man must be at the moment is fun. "Don't worry. What I want is free." He lowers his hand for a moment but Stewart stays in place. He raises his other hand at the man's head, pointing out his index finger. He slowly moves his finger across the man's forehead and a thin line of blood appears and trickles down the man's pudgy face as he screams. "Shh shh shh," Sylar tries to hush the man but it is too late. A female store clerk is already on her way over, a look of horror upon her face.

Sylar quickly lowers his hand and the man falls to the ground just in time because the foolish store clerk is standing right next to him now. "Can I help you?" he asks the clerk even though that is what the employees usually ask the customers. She stands there shaking in fear for a moment then she says,

"Um, no, no, is there, um...is there anything I can get for you?" Sylar looks at her calmly.

"Nope," he says, looking at her name tag. "I don't think so, Julie."

"Ok then," she barely whispers. Julie starts to walk away, but Sylar sees that her hand is reaching for her walkie-talkie.

"Now, now," he says, and flicks his fingers, sending the woman's walkie-talkie flying across the room. "That won't be necessary," he says. She spins around. "You're not going to call anyone," Sylar says, more aggressively now, walking towards her as she backs away from him.

"Yes, of course-" Sylar interrupts her. He continues to back her into a corner and says,

"Because I have five thousand dollars in my pocket and an annoying camera crew following me around. Not to mention fashion experts, Stacy and Clinton watching me from their cozy studio, burial ground of my entire wardrobe. I spent last night locked in a hotel room with a Haitian body guard outside my door. I'm supposed to be shopping until I drop but so far the only person dropping is my friend Stewart here. And if you call...whoever it is you were planning on calling, well, I'll have to kill them too. You don't want that do you?" Julie, now cowering against the wall, shakes her head.

"Now," Sylar says, calming down a bit, "What will we do with you?" he looks around.

"Let me go?" Julie suggests. Sylar chuckles.

"Sorry Julie," he laughs. "Nice try though." he flicks his fingers again and a couple of clothes hangers fly towards Julie and pierce her chest, blood gushing onto the floor. She falls to the ground. Sylar stares at her for a moment and laughs silently. Then he goes over to Stewart's body and picks him up.

A few minutes later, Sylar is enraged again. He has gone through Stewart's brain, but he has found nothing. Stewart is not even special. He doesn't have a power. There is nothing remarkable about his brain at all. Sylar can't believe this. Either Mohinder was wrong about Stewart, something that has never happened before, or Mohinder had lied to him. He is infuriated.

Sylar is so mad, not just about this but also because the white shirt that Sylar had tried on is now covered in blood so he can't buy it and thinks he needs to get out of this store immediately. He rips the shirt off, grabs the shirt that he had been wearing before and runs out of the store. Suddenly he doesn't feel like shopping anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

But Sylar still has another whole day of shopping ahead of him and almost all of his five thousand dollars left to spend, minus the price of the against-the-rules-jacket that he had bought. So the next day Sylar finds himself walking grudgingly into yet another store.

He thinks perhaps he needs some pants. Maybe some black ones that would go with the jacket that he bought. He wanders around the store for a bit, looking at some of the clothes.

Then suddenly he hears giggling behind him. He raises his eyebrow at the sound but keeps walking. He can hear two sets of footsteps now too. A faint chuckling can be heard.

Sylar walks a little bit faster.

Then, suddenly, he spins around and points a telekinetic finger at Stacy and Clinton. Stacy laughs and grabs the arm with the finger he had almost thrown her across the room with. Clinton grabs his other arm. Sylar is not happy to be back in this position.

"So Sylar," says Stacy, "We saw the footage of you from yesterday." Sylar smiles just a bit and raises his eyebrows.

"Did you?" he says, "And?"

"And we're very disappointed that you bought that jacket," Clinton says, shaking his head. Sylar's gaze drops. Oh. He had thought they had been saying that they had seen him kill those two people. Sylar is a little bit disappointed as well. But they might have seen it anyway and just chose not to say anything. Then Stacy says,

"And we also saw...the other thing that you did..." Sylar smiles just a bit.

"Yeah so we're not gonna let that happen again," Clinton says, holding his arm tighter for emphasis, and causing Sylar to roll his eyes. As if they could really stop him.

"Yeah, we're not gonna let you get distracted," Stacy agreed.

"And we're not going to make you return that jacket either because we have only one more day of shopping and almost all of your money left to spend." Clinton says.

"Not to mention," adds Stacy, "Your entire wardrobe to replace."

"Yeah, so what are we waiting for," Clinton says, "Let's go!"

First they take him to a table that has a display of sweaters on it.

"What do you think of these sweaters?" Stacy asks. Sylar stares at the colorful clothing for a moment.

"They're nice," he says.

"They're nice," Clinton repeats, "Would you wear them?" Sylar shakes his head.

"I don't think so," he says. Stacy looks really sad.

"Oh but Sylar," she whines, "This purple one would look really pretty with your eyes." She holds it up. "And it's so soft," she adds, rubbing it against Sylar's face.

"Stop that," he says and whacks the sweater down.

"Fine," she says, "Just try on this blue one." She throws it in his general direction.

They walk around the store for a bit, when suddenly Stacy appears to have spotted something. "Oooh," she exclaims, her high heels clicking and clattering across the floor as she runs over. "How about this jacket?" she asks, stroking the brown fabric. Sylar opens his mouth to say something about how if he wanted to wear a jacket like that he would have been born in the 1800s, when Clinton cuts him off.

"I like it," Clinton says, nodding his head. They don't even ask Sylar's opinion on it. Stacy grabs the jacket and thrusts it into Sylar's arms, even though he is already holding several articles of clothing.

"Oh, and how about this?" Stacy says, running over to the next rack and pulling something off.

"Oh, definitely. And this would be great with that." Clinton grabs something off another rack. Stacy and Clinton throw the clothes towards Sylar.

And suddenly, Sylar doesn't have a say anymore. He keeps his clever comments to himself and follows Stacy and Clinton around the store as they toss more and more clothes into his arms, not bothering to ask Sylar whether or not he likes them.

* * *

"Okay, Sylar, come on out!" Stacy yells. Sylar angrily flings open the curtain and walks out of the dressing room. Stacy makes a sqeeing noise and pulls him in front of the mirror.

"Take a look at that!" says Stacy, "What do you think, Sylar?" Sylar takes a good hard look at the clothes on his body that Stacy and Clinton had picked out for him and demanded that he tried on.

"I don't really know what to think of it," Sylar says coldly, eyeing the jacket and colorful scarf with distaste. It looked like something Mohinder would wear.

"Why is that?" asks Clinton.

"It doesn't look like something I would wear."

"Well," Stacy snorts, "That's kind of the point, isn't it? I mean what you were wearing before was terrible, but this. _This_ is nice. Don't you think, Clinton?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"I don't think so," Sylar says, and makes to turn around and go back into his dressing room to take off these clothes, but Clinton and Stacy grab him.

"Uh, Sylar? There a particular reason you don't like this?" asks Clinton. "I mean, it looks fantastic. The color of the jacket brings out your eyes and these pants are great and the best part is that you won't frighten away small children."

"So basically you two want me to become someone I'm not by changing my clothes."

"Yeah that's about the idea," says Stacy. "Now, go try on something else." She pushes him back into the dressing room. Sylar angrily rips the scarf from around his neck as he goes.

As they look at more and more clothes, Stacy and Clinton often try to give him lessons on shopping. "Now," says Stacy, "when buying a shirt like this one here," she gestures to a rack of dress shirts. "You want to make sure you get the right fit." she flips through the shirts, looking at the sizes. "And you also want to get a color that is right for you." She holds up a green one against his chest. Then she shakes her head and puts it back. She tries again with a blue one. But apparently that is not the right one either because she puts it back too. "Oh wait," she says, grabbing one of the shirts. "Yes. This one." she holds up striped colorful one. She presses it against him.

"No way," Sylar say, pushing it away. If they thought he was going to try on any more stupid outfits, they were wrong.

"Oh come on, Sylar," Clinton says, forcing the hanger that the shirt is hanging on into Sylar's hand. Sylar promises himself that he is NOT going to put on that shirt, but about ten minutes later he is stepping out of the dressing room with it on.

"I told you I don't like this shirt," he says furiously.

"Okay, fine," Clinton says.

"You don't have to buy it if you don't want to," Stacy assures him.

"Fine, I won't."

"We're not gonna force you."

"Okay."

"It does look great on you though." Sylar glares at Stacy and five minutes later he is paying for the stupid shirt.

* * *

"Did you put it on?" Stacy yells.

"Yes." Sylar groans.

"Well, let's see it," says Clinton.

"Yeah show us," Stacy calls.

"I'd rather not," says Sylar. He hears Clinton sighing and before Sylar knows it, Clinton pulls him out of the dressing room. Stacy gasps. Clinton shoves Sylar in front of the mirror.

"I told you," Stacy says. "I _told_ you you could work a suit." Sylar adjusts his tie nervously.

"Sylar, this looks amazing," says Clinton.

"I...don't know about this," Sylar says slowly.

"What are you talking about?" Clinton chuckles. "It looks great. But all Sylar can think about is Peter Petrelli's face if he saw Sylar's pink tie.

"I feel like people will laugh at me." Stacy looks shocked.

"Sylar, no one would dare laugh at you in this."

"Yeah, they'll all be too afraid I'll cut open their heads," Sylar mumbles. Clinton laughs.

"That's probably true," he says. Stacy shoots him a look.

"Sylar, you look great in this and you have to get it," she says.

"Where would I even wear a suit?" Sylar asks.

"It doesn't matter. You're not leaving the store without one."

"But-"

"No buts. You're getting it. Now go take it off. We have a lot of shopping to do." Sylar groans and turns around and walks back into the dressing room.

* * *

Sylar drops an armload of clothes on the counter and the clerk begins ringing him up. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the price. He has managed to spend all of his five thousand dollars. He is glad this is over. He is getting tired of being Stacy and Clinton's dress-up doll.

"So I can go home now, right?" Sylar says, as the clerk begins folding his new clothes and putting them into a bag. Stacy and Clinton almost laugh.

"What?" says Clinton. "No, of course not." Sylar is thoroughly frustrated.

"Why not?" he asks.

"Haven't you seen the show?" Stacy says. Sylar arches his eyebrow at her. What more could they possibly do to him? "We're not done with you yet," Stacy says. "Tomorrow is hair and makeup day." Sylar thinks the expression on his face probably resembles one worn by his victims when he states that he is going to kill them. The clerk hands him several bags and Stacy and Clinton lead him out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

The next day, Sylar is taken to a different building. He sits in a room by himself, in front of a counter that has some beauty products on it. Sylar eyes them nervously. The counter also has a large mirror above it. Sylar checks out his reflection. He can't imagine what anyone could do to make him more attractive then he already is. A man walks into the room.

"Hi Sylar," he says in strange accent, "My name is Nick Arrojo."

"Hi Nick Arrojo," Sylar says in the least friendly of tones. But Nick Arrojo is not fazed.

"Can we talk about your hair?" he asks.

"I suppose so," Sylar replies.

"Well first of all I think you must have a lot of gel in it," says Nick Arrojo, "And I also think it's probably too long." He messes up Sylar's hair with his hand and it falls in front of his face. "So I think you definitely need a haircut."

Sylar can't really argue with him there. He hasn't had a haircut in while, being a bit too busy killing people and all that, so maybe he does need a haircut, and allowing Nick Arrojo to cut his hair would most likely be a lot easier than doing it himself with telekinesis, but Sylar has had a lot of bad experiences with other people cutting his hair that he is not too keen to relive. When he was a kid his mother used to cut his hair in the kitchen with the kitchen scissors because they hadn't had money to go to a real hair-cutting place. Sylar remembers all those years of the bowl-cut and shudders.

And there had also been the time The Company had abducted him and cut his hair while he had been unconscious. He had woken up in a cage with a particularly short haircut. It had definitely not been pleasant.

However as with those times, Sylar knows he probably doesn't have a choice.

"Fine," he says, and Nick Arrojo takes him over to another chair, one with a wide sink behind it. He gestures for Sylar to sit and Sylar does so.

"Gotta was all that gel out of your hair," Nick Arrojo says as he begins rinsing out Sylar's hair with water. Sylar scowls. Nick Arrojo puts weird smelling shampoo in Sylar's hair and rinses it some more. He then drapes a towel over Sylar's shoulders and takes him back to the other chair. He puts a black sheet over him covering his shoulders and falling on to the floor. Sylar sits in the chair facing the mirror. Nick Arrojo runs a comb through his wet hair. He picks up a pair of shiny scissors. "I don't suppose you'd let me color your hair, would you?" he asks.

"No," Sylar says, a tad angrily at the mere suggestion of it.  
"Alright," Nick Arrojo laughs. "But don't think that you're going to get out of having a haircut." he says, and begins cutting Sylar's hair. Sylar is a bit uncomfortable with Nick Arrojo cutting his hair. As general rule, he doesn't usually allow sharp objects near his head. And Nick Arrojo scissors are moving quite fast. A lot of Sylar's hair is sliding down the shiny surface of the sheet and falling on the floor.

Sylar is also a bit nervous about the haircut. He curses Mohinder for ever nominating him. He wonders why Mohinder had wanted to sign Sylar up for a makeover and Sylar wonders why he had even agreed. Well, he hadn't known that there would be a haircut. That was for sure.

Nick Arrojo cuts Sylar's hair for a long time, then he puts weird hair product. And finally, after what seems to Sylar like a very long time, Nick Arrojo's hair styling activities come to a stop. "Well, it's done," he says and takes the sheet off of Sylar. "Take a look."

Sylar looks at himself in the mirror. It's really short. And too neat. He supposed he will be able to mess it up somehow, but he would have preferred to just have his old hair style, and he wonders how long it will take to grow back. Nick Arrojo is smiling as if Sylar's look of hatred and discontent means that he has done a job well done. "Enjoy your new look," Nick Arrojo says, and leaves.

* * *

Sylar has to go to a different room now. The new room looks a lot like the first one except that there is a woman in it. She motions for Sylar to sit down, again in the chair facing a large mirror.

"Whoa," she says, as soon as she catches sight of Sylar's reflection. "Well, I was warned."

"What?" says Sylar, "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind," she says. "Hi Sylar, I'm Carmindy, and this is usually the part where I do women's' makeup, but as you could guess, I'm not going to do your makeup." Carmindy laughs, but Sylar does not find this joke very amusing. "Instead, I'm going to talk to you about shaving." She takes out some shaving cream and before Sylar can say anything she rubs it on his face.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asks. Carmindy takes out a razor and begins shaving his face.

"I'm just getting rid of all this stubble that you have on your face," Carmindy explains. She wipes off his now clean shaven face with a towel. "See?" she says. "It looks a lot better." Sylar is not sure about that, but he doesn't say anything. "Now," Carmindy says, "We need to do something about those caterpillar eyebrows of yours." Sylar raises his so-called caterpillar eyebrows.

"We do?" he says.

"Well, sure," Carmindy says, "I mean, look at them," she says, running her finger across his left eyebrow. "I mean, they warned me about their hideousness, but I could never imagine this." She chuckles. "I'd say a little waxing will do the trick." She rummages through a drawer. Then she looks at him again. "Make that a lot of waxing.

"No way," Sylar says. And he tried to get up. But Carmindy puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him back into the chair. They hadn't warned him. Just as they hadn't told him about the haircut. There was a lot that they had kept from him, and now he knew why.

"Don't worry," she says, "We're just going to give your eyebrows a good taming. It won't hurt too much."

"But this will," Sylar says. He flicks his fingers. Carmindy flies across the room and crashes into a mirror. She lies on the ground. Blood and pieces of broken glass around her. Sylar crosses the room and Carmindy looks up at him pleadingly But Sylar shows no mercy as he kills her.

Then he walks out of the room. He finds Nick Arrojo back in his room organizing his tools and products. Before Nick Arrojo can say anything, Sylar sends him sliding across the floor. Sylar pulls his hand into a fist then spreads out his fingers and all of Nick Arrojo's pairs of scissors fly at him. Sylar walks across the bloody floor and leans over the dying man.

"That was for the haircut," he says, then leaves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Clinton, let's see if we were able to reform this killer," Stacy says.

"Okay, Stacy," Clinton agrees.

"Come on out, Sylar!" Stacy yells. Sylar walks into the room. As Stacy sees him she gasps. "Shut up!" she yells. Sylar crosses into the center of the room and stands in front of the full-length mirror between Stacy and Clinton. He is wearing clothes that Stacy and Clinton had made him buy, so he doesn't know why they are acting so surprised.

"Wow, Sylar, this looks amazing," Clinton says.

"Yes," Stacy agrees. "And finally, some color! It really brings out your eyes, and now we can actually see you! These clothes fit so much closer to your body than your old clothes."

"Your old look said, I'm a creepy guy who's going to kill you," Clinton says.

"Which was true," adds Stacy.

"Yeah, but your new look says friendly, it says sophisticated, it gives a better feel," says Clinton.

"That's right," Stacy says, "Now, let's see something else."

"No," Sylar says.

"What?" Stacy says, confused. Sylar smiles.

"You see, I don't plan on doing anything you two tell me anymore. I let you throw away all my clothes, I got a stupid haircut, I even shopped by all your rules. However, there weren't any rules about killing you two when this was finished."

"After all we've done for you?" Stacy says, "Sylar, we helped you!"

_"_Helped me?!" Sylar almost laughs. "Did I ask for help? You two have had no respect for me. Well, its time to pay up."

"So you're going to kill us?" Clinton asks.

"Yes," Sylar looks at Stacy. "Ladies first?" he says. Stacy looks at him in horror. Sylar laughs and proceeds, taking care not to get blood on his new clothes, to kill the people that have made these last few days a living hell.

* * *

"Sylar's style before was...creepy, to say the least," Peter says. "We'd be gong in for a battle, and I'd say to him, "Sylar man, why are you wearing that? No one dresses like that." and he would say something like, "shut up Petrelli and let me cut your head open."" Peter laughs at the memory and brushes his emo hair out of his face.

"I hope he's wearing something that's not flashy, but fashionable," says Angela.

"I hope we'll be able to go out together without him embarrassing me," Elle says.

"Me too," says Mohinder.

All of Sylar's friends are gathered at IHOP, laughing and having a good time, telling the cameras how they hope Sylar will look.

"Three words," says Matt, "No. More. Trench. Coats."

"I'm so excited to see my boy," Virginia says, "Gabriel has always been a bit shy, but maybe this will give him more confidence."

"My name is Sylar." Everyone turns to see Sylar standing in the doorway. They all scream. But they aren't screaming because they are scared. They are screaming because Sylar is the most handsome man they have ever seen. He struts around the room and Sylar lets everyone hug him except for Nathan.

"Oh my god," Mohinder says to the camera, "I can't believe he's the same man."

"Who knows," says Claire, "maybe I'll stop trying to kill him."

"I'd hit that," Peter says.

"Me too," HRG nods.

They proceed to party for hours, long after the camera people get bored and go home.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue:

"This experience has been really eye-opening for me. I'd like to thank Stacy and Clinton for helping me. I'm definitely going to continue to follow the rules," says Sylar. Then an announcer says,

"We regret to inform you that Stacy and Clinton will be unable to return to the show. But we'd like to welcome the new hosts of What Not to Wear, Maya and Alejandro!" Sylar turns off the T.V.

"I can't believe they aired that," Sylar says.

"There was quite a lot of violence," Mohinder agrees.

"No, I'm talking about how I threatened the producers. Saying I would kill them if they aired it. Remind me, tomorrow I have to take a trip to New York."

"Some things never change, I guess," Mohinder sighs.

"Come on, Mohinder, you didn't actually thing changing my wardrobe would make me not a murderer, did you?" Mohinder shrugs. "Speaking of that, I killed that man you gave me the name of. You were wrong about him. He doesn't have a power."

"Oh him? That was just a lie to get you to be at that restaurant."

"I figured," Sylar says, but he isn't too annoyed about it anymore. He is more annoyed that Mohinder's shirt doesn't match his pants. In fact, studying Mohinder's entire outfit, he realizes that it is completely hideous. "You know, Mohinder," he says suddenly, "You have terrible fashion sense." Mohinder looks appalled.

"Me?" he says. Sylar nods.

"Yes. I mean look. Your shirt and pants don't go together at all, your shoes are god awful-" Mohinder interrupts him.

"I think you must have absorbed Stacy and Clinton's fashion powers when you killed them," he said. Sylar pauses thoughtfully, then groans in disgust.

"Ugh, you're right," he says. Mohinder dies laughing.

A/N: Okay, um…well, that's it. Thank you everybody for reading and commenting, and in response to a lot of the comments, I love Sylar's clothes too! Even his sweater vests! I just wrote this for fun. No offense intended to Sylar, and I hope he doesn't kill me.


End file.
